Gull

I walk through these white-lighted tall streets of dreams and soulsales, while my nostalgia grows up to born the visions in my failed memory of those saint days when i has fixedly happy.
I see them who i have lost, i see the places never come native again, I see the signs don’t mean anything tonight,  i see everything have sunk in the rubbish grey river of life, which is moving so fast and taking so much, leaving just illusion clouds of reality;
I see this torches of life-circle, fired the air with their fake light of safety in unemployment drunk night beggin' just for a cigarette or somebody's love for a few dollars in old oversmoked car backseat;
I see these grounds of thousand years stones, which have hold uncouting number of dirty aimless steps on them and so got lost on where they need to go, but sometimes choose one lucky to follow him - just 'cause it's not the man to follow the roads but there are roads to follow him;
I see these blackpullowered gues, the knights of darkness in bin lanes sitting on the stops and steps of social, waiting for or repairing their happiness of the other ungodded world in small papers and blank generation needles of hope and faith and dazzling clearity of their sinless souls born to absorb every scary of this life and then bleed it out;
I see these fogged unreflecting eyes of no emotions inside of model anorexic and bulimic heart of plastic’ n ’rubber, vaseline’ n’ silicone, made to feel nothing but the beautiful stickful flash of no soul and to came angels in this discount life, screaming in ecstasy in looking-at-the-mirror-self-masturbation or with the fake orgasm in the looes in night parties of somebodies pain;
I can see these young but wise with all the hardness, pain and heartlessness of the life, babies of the future, sitting on the spitting ground next to pubs, smoking and waiting for the miracle in there innocent and naive minds which are so happy to be full with the real childish love and trust and hope.
I can see this cathedrals, which came just monuments of someone called the creator, which is forever lost for those who still think that the human is clear, for those who had some Charlie on the toilet lids and then saw the hope in the mirror glim, and believed and lied to themselves that they are saint and saved;
I see this love-lighted windows of mother's care and heat, which are the dream...unreal, and tears come out when see them, home is nowhere, there is no home for you and all the others, 'cause we had left our mothers crying with the scream of hate and needlessness, and now we are afraid to remember our homes, 'cause there is too heartache inside - so the only thing you're able to do is to fall 'n' hug yourself and cry as a baby; 
I see this sky going to howl for honesty and liberty of the every soul, calling for hammerhead ash clouds of ozone holes and acid, which are going round this circlestances life and descend with tears of conscience on every fake smile;
I see these hugging in the corners lovemakers, left all the points of useless sense and saved just the hot feeling of desire, left all the minded propriety and saved just the pure bisexual freedom of sense;
I see these police cars passing through the night like a reminder of the law and the power of heterosexual ferro-lithium universe of king the coin, made to offer the illusion of iron protection and violent safety in the cage of free speech and free will and fake freedom, stand cold-blooded stone toy soldiers to protect the nation from every liberty of soul, made on the plant machines in the factory of social-democracy slavery;
I see these unemployed dirty faces picking up oddments of fags, lying behind the walls in the silent darkness of life, hate and heartbreak, left by every social mind in disdain and strait, the only real patriots who was ready to give their minds and lives for the governmental hysterical schizophrenia, now came just animals, living for food and sleep, hating everyone passing, living for no idea of the next day horror, suffering naked in mad paranoia;
I see these infinite sky parallel bloody brick railroads which are playing the main role in the suicidal trash comedy, guiding from nowhere to the road heaven of knocking noise of heroin trip, presenting the painful joy of stranger copulation in  restaurant-car jukebox or of leaving broken hearts for egocentric cunt fun;
I see these girls standing behind the vomited painted by abstract artists of madness and hysterical riot walls, selling the only thing they can have: selling their souls and identities for love, not for money, but for some liar orgasm of self-comedown, the only who are able to love faithfully, who give the real vision of care, 'cause only the paid sex can be the clearest love ever, 'cause the most sweetest thing that could be is after a blank hard day night to fall into ginger haired tender whore, before got her drunk;
I see these big posh cars whistling the same hard tyre melody of pedophilia, high perfumed money death of the morality and life, which cannot be identified as a life, but some wild rabbit kind of exist;
I see these boost boards and signs, which are readind’n’eating the minds and commanding to be that kind of typical animal or other as the they, ‘cause if you’re not you’re just out, you’re ever over and forever abandoned by the urban wild life of hunter and cutter;
I see these 24 hours hard little shops, where you can find nothing but the china machinery of starry paperwork and century frozen foodless feed and some Latina shop holder, who can offer some naughty fix or blow or into fix;
I see you and the others and everyone and everything and we are together singing the Obladi-oblada or rape me anthem of body soul escape of the wind is running through our hair and heads and we are actually happy to be the ones who cannot stand the silence anymore;
I see myself, going down the streets, wiping tears and making love my own reality of nowhere left memories and hope.
I can see all this while the gulls are rolling above my head screaming with their sweat animal orgasm.

My friend, when you're gone at all, they won't wait for u to back. And if someday you’re hopefully back they don’t need you anymore, cause for them you're ever gone. ‘Cause u re always not needed in the place u need to be. But there is always hope.